Saviour
by dreameronderse
Summary: Oneshot. Mello is assigned the task of kidnapping L and bringing him back into the hands of the mafia. Please do not read this it is rushed. I swear I will improve on this soon and make it a lot longer and better but in the meantime, Merry Christmas Hani! Rated T for strong language and minor drug use.


**saviour**

It was a single letter representing a single man, and yet the very whisper of it froze Mello in his tracks, a jolt running down his spine as if he had been shot. His grip on the half-eaten chocolate bar in his hand tightened as he whirled around to face the two men speaking from across the room. With his free hand he snatched up the gun he had left on the beat-up coffee table and, cocking it, aimed the weapon at the head of the man who had spoken. A snarl overtook his features and he spat, "What the _hell_ did you just say, Rod?"

The man in question wasn't afraid of the young mafioso. While Mello was considered to be one of the most intelligent and cunning detectives worldwide, his power was overruled by Rod Ross, the current leader of the Japanese Mafia, who outweighed Mello both in authority and physical advantages. He snatched the gun out of Mello's hand and smirked. "I think you heard me perfectly fine, Mello," he responded calmly, a sharp contrast to Mello's visible expression of a mixture of confusion and anger. The man let out a chuckle as he stared down the trembling younger man in front of him. "That favorite detective of yours is supposedly on our case and has taken it upon himself to take our matters into his own hands.

"You know just as well as I do that that is not going to work." Rod leaned back against the wall; the man he had been speaking to turned to leave with a commanding nod from his superior. The younger man's face had turned to one of horror from his previous bewildered rage. Flashbacks raced before his eyes as he struggled to process what his boss was saying to him. "You're only second in command in this organization, Mello, so don't get any ideas. You're also only the secondhand brains of the operation, and nothing more. The final say is up to me, and I say this guy is causing trouble deep within underground Japan, and if we don't do something, it's going to be _our_ heads. But…" the man trailed off with a curious expression. "It's too bad. Obviously we can't kill him—that would just fuck things up even more."

Ross let out a dry laugh, breath reeking strongly of cigar smoke. Mello felt queasy as he stared down the massive criminal that was his boss. Position in the criminal underworld aside, Rod Ross was an extraordinarily intimidating figure, towering over Mello's 171 centimeters and nearly double his body weight. Mello's frantic ambition to be able to bring criminals to justice hands-on had gotten him involved with some of the most dangerous men and women in the nation years ago, and although at times the young man's temper got ahead of him, he was no fool—to go against your superior's orders was the equivalent of painting a target on your forehead.

Rod's grin slowly shifted to an oddly neutral smile as he turned to leave. "I think you know what you have to do, blondie," he added with a mocking undertone before walking out through the rusted metal doorframe.

Mello cautiously sat down on one of the worn out old sofas, unusually silent.

The man Mello had worshipped and idolized for nearly the entirety of his life was faceless, only a letter on a computer screen accompanied by a usually electronically distorted voice. If he didn't do as his boss had ordered to him, he'd be dropped in rank, kicked out, or most likely killed. And yet, the very prospect of meeting the world renowned detective for the first time frightened Mello more than death.

Logically, he knew he had no other choice. The mafia had already put the blood of many men and women on his hands—to Rod, this was just another assignment to keep his name at the top. But to Mello, this would be biting the hand that had once fed him and a slap in the face to the god who had given his life meaning.

It wouldn't be a simple task. Mello knew well enough that the detective, being one of the most intelligent people to ever live, would not be one to be abducted without giving his attacker a hell of a fight. There were likely high-tech security systems to be breached to even get close to where the man resided. All the mafia knew about their target was that he was located somewhere in one of the many central city districts of Japan. Not only this, but there was also the chance that the only reason Mello had been assigned this kidnapping was to mock him with the challenge, one that was very close to being impossible to carry out without error.

Mello reached for an abandoned pack of cigarettes left by one of the group pawns, sliding one out of the carton and past his lips, lighting it almost as an unconscious act. He would have to carry out the task whether he liked it or not; turning down a direct order from Rod was making yourself into nothing more than a fool with a death wish. It didn't matter if the blond was behind his target as one of the world's most cunning detective forces alive—the mafia would not hesitate to have him murdered in an instant if he failed to comply for the sake of their safety.

The young man took a long drag from the cigarette and exhaled slowly, watching the tendrils of smoke dissipate in the air. Soon he would be staring God face to face, if only for the cowardly act of saving his own skin.

A vicious, animalistic snarl broke the silence of the room. Mello slammed his hands down on the table. "For fuck's sake, Matt, we've got _no_ fucking information! How the hell am I supposed to find him, let alone kidnap him?"

The lanky teenager was unfazed by his friend's outburst. While Matt wasn't directly involved with the mafia, he was close enough with Mello and trusted him enough that he was willing to help out with the technological aspect of their dirty work. However, when it came to anything regarding L, even the experienced hacker was unable to breach the detective's information files. L was essentially off of the map and without a face, name, location, or even a vague record, it was essentially impossible to find him through electronic means. The mafia had the same information on L as the general public did—L was the world's greatest and most infamous detective, who only would take on cases that interested him. His name would only come up if he so wished, and even then it would typically only be after the case had been tackled. A shady outside information source had previously let Rod know that L currently was staying in central Japan—but any idiot could have guessed that.

"Dude, chill out," Matt responded, shutting the laptop and adjusting the goggles covering his eyes. "You know just as well as I do that there's no way we can find him like this. We're just going to go back to Wammy's House. It'll be a lot easier to get some notes on L from there."

Mello huffed and dejectedly leaned back on the sofa. The chocolate bar he'd abandoned earlier still sat discarded on the coffee table. He glanced at it for a moment before sheepishly reaching for the spare cigarette Matt kept in his vest pocket, shooting his friend a halfhearted glare when he attempted to protest. It felt a little strange to have a cigarette in his mouth again—the blond had given up smoking a few years ago and switched to dark chocolate for unspoken fear of developing disease. However, with the levels of stress he had been dealing with lately, smoking seemed far more appealing and appropriate in contrast to his usual candy.

The cheap lighter Mello had found lying around took a few tries to spark a flame. He inhaled deeply, and to his surprise found the hot smoke rushing past his throat and into his lungs far more comforting than his usual satisfying snap of his chocolate bars. With a shaky exhale, his focus shifted to the task at hand after a moment or two; the guilt of kidnapping his mentor and handing him to the filthy hands of the mafia was slowly creeping up on Mello. Difficulty of the mission aside—if it was even possible to carry out, that is—Mello couldn't be sure that Rod would be true to his word and keep the man alive. From what the young man knew from L's completed cases, L was incredibly stubborn and perhaps even childish when it came to getting what he wanted. It was highly unlikely that the man would give in to the mafia's demands, and if he was killed due to it, the government and the crime world as a whole would be in an uproar, despite L being an extremely private and independent detective force. Of course, there wasn't much point in overanalyzing the situation. It wasn't as if Mello would be able to change his boss' mind. After all, Mello was only there for input—like Rod would repeatedly remind him, he had no real say in what the final decisions were.

"Hey, Mello." An unfortunately familiar voice cut through his thoughts and his glance snapped up, meeting eyes with Jack Neylon, one of the lower ranking men working under Rod. Mello gave the visibly drugged up pawn a look of annoyed disapproval. "Boss wants you. Says something about some detective."

Matt and Mello exchanged a glance of irritation mixed with concern. Mello abruptly nodded and stood up, dropping his partially smoked cigarette in an ashtray and following Jack out of the small subsection of the basement. Rod sat waiting on the couch, shirtless as usual with his arm around a scantily dressed brunette. A couple of other men whose names Mello hadn't bothered to learn stood by the door. He shot them a warning look before turning his attention back to his boss.

"Nice of you to join us, Mello," the man greeted sarcastically, earning himself a giggle from the woman. "I want you to get started looking for this guy today. He's got to be somewhere nearby because there's no other way he'd know what he does about us otherwise. I want this him back here within the next week, because there is no fucking way I'm letting this guy hand us to the cops like it's a piece of cake. Is that clear?"

An argument rose up in Mello's throat, threatening to escape from the hold of his better judgment. He swallowed hard, as if to force the notion back down into the pit of his stomach. Rules were different in the mafia as opposed to how things had been at the orphanage where he'd grown up. Back at Wammy's House, Mello could have been considered to be the leader out of all the other children. He was dangerous and because of this, he was feared. He was ranked second on the infamous Wammy's Scoreboard—the highest listed name was to become L's successor. Of course, because Mello did not hold this place, he had never been able to meet L face to face even once.

But none of that really mattered now. Mello was no longer a child and didn't care about petty competition nearly as much anymore. Hell, he doubted he would even be appropriate for the role of L—it was too late at this point. He'd gotten himself involved with the very criminals he was supposed to be hunting as a detective; why would L pick the lawbreaker to take his place as a crime fighter?

"Yeah, I've got it." The words were spoken as if of their own accord, the young man's legs moving themselves and walking past the two other men out the door, through the building and into the parking garage. He hardly registered Matt in the passenger's seat of the car he had idly started the engine of, and even less the two men loaded with weapons in the back seat. As it always was, Tokyo remained bright and vibrant even throughout the late hours of the night. Matt was fiddling with a tracking device of sorts, more than likely to throw off the other two men working under Rod—they couldn't head to Wammy's House with the boss' eye on them like this. They'd need money for plane tickets to England—money that couldn't be used without raising major suspicion. All of these thoughts processed themselves as Mello continued to mindlessly drive through the city streets. The only thing they could really do at this point was pretend to look for clues as to where L might be residing, essentially having the freedom to do nothing more than drive through the city streets until morning.

Hours passed. The car reeked of cigarette smoke and alcohol. The two men in the backseat had grown bored and taken to discussing their recent sexual partners, seemingly not caring much about what their fellow passengers thought about it. Matt would occasionally glance at his friend worriedly, taking notice of his out of character wordlessness and blank expression. Matt, having grown up at Wammy's House alongside Mello, was directly below him in levels of intelligence; kidnapping L was quite obviously and directly affecting Mello on a mental state. The reason for this had the possibility of being one of many, and Matt lacked knowledge of what it was due to his friend keeping any explanation secret, but nevertheless the emptiness emanating from Mello was enough to worry Matt about the task he had gotten himself involved in.

The vehicle took an unexpected turn onto a smaller road, with Mello taking the car out from the city into a fielded area. Alarms immediately went off in Matt's head and he quickly glanced in the rearview mirror to see the two men carrying on conversation without notice. Matt shot his friend a questioning frown and was met with the blond no longer stoically calm, but rather a frantic expression of determination as he slowly pressed down further on the gas pedal. The redheaded teen knew better than to make a statement on this development aloud, but at the same time felt adrenaline rising—just like the old days when they were children back at the orphanage, only this time was perhaps slightly more of a matter of literal life and death.

Mello pulled to a stop at the side of the road. They had traveled far enough from the outskirts of the city on the dirt road that the skyscrapers' lights no longer illuminated their path. The blond barked something about needing to step out here for a bathroom break and the unsuspecting pawns followed suit out of the safety of the car. Matt sat anxiously in the car still, watching with mixed horror and amazement as Mello pulled out his silver handgun and shot the two urinating men in the head, one after the other. The young man calmly placed his weapon back in its holster and climbed back into the car, doing his best to hide a smile of crazed satisfaction. Matt stared at him open-mouthed for another moment or two before bursting into laughter as his friend put the car into reverse to head back to where they had driven off from. "You crazy fucking bastard," he gasped between chortles, "your boss is gonna be _pissed_!"

Mello's familiar grin finally made its appearance once again. He reached for one of the spare chocolate bars in the glove box, moving Matt's legs out of the way and expertly tearing the foil off of the candy. Taking a victorious bite from it, he spoke for the first time in several hours. "Glad we got that taken care of."

"And now the actual dirty work begins, right?" his friend prompted, using his knee to shut the compartment Mello had left open. He was given a nod in response and back they sped into the populated heart of the Kanto region. Any guilt Mello had been swimming in regarding the kidnapping of L had been forced back down and silenced—he couldn't afford to think in depth about that quite yet.

"Mello." They had been driving for what was only another hour or so after having 'disposed of' the two other men that were with them, and they had taken to carelessly driving through the city streets once more. Matt's voice was unusually urgent in tone. "Stop here. Pull over."

Mello gave his friend a look of irritation but complied, and after shifting into park, questioned impatiently, "What?"

Matt had had his laptop pulled up and had been working on some program for a while up to this point, and he turned it so that Mello could see the screen buzzing with codes and numbers, as if he would be able to decipher whatever he was looking at. "See? Every other area has some kind of data file or signal from it, but now there's nothing. Either this giant building has no technology in it whatsoever, or someone has encrypted the fuck out of their systems. I don't know if this is where he is, but…" The redhead motioned towards a side street leading to a subsection of the city bustling with cars. He offered the blond a sheepish and nervous grin. "This is probably the only lead we're gonna get all night. We might as well check it out, right?"

The mafioso's good natured scowl shifted to a wide grin and a bark of laughter broke the anticipating silence. "Damn, Matt, I don't know how the fuck you do it, but God knows I'd be in deep shit without you," he chuckled, ruffling his friend's hair roughly like he always used to back when they were two inseparable kids at the orphanage. "Yeah, let's pull up to this place. It couldn't hurt. Besides," the young man gestured to the pile of weapons in the back seat of the car. "I'm pretty sure both of us know how to shoot at least somewhat straight if it comes down to it."

Perhaps L wasn't quite as clever as he would have people to believe, Mello mused, noticing that the only building without a front entrance was the one Matt had mentioned lacked the commonplace computer files, or even a standard Wi-Fi connection viewable from such a short distance from the building. The vehicle drifted down the gently down sloped ramp to the garage entrance. A small PA system crackled to life on the driver's side of the ramp; Mello slipped a pair of sunglasses on and rolled down his window. "Confirmation code?" a robotic sounding programmed prompted.

Mello smirked and leaned a little closer to the speaker. And, in a bold step of blind faith, responded, "I think you don't need a confirmation code from us kids, _Mr. Wammy_. Open up."

Nothing changed. The PA system didn't offer another recording and Mello leaned back into his car, waiting. Cars behind them continued to drive by for what seemed like an eternity. Matt nervously shifted in his spot. "Mel, maybe this isn't the place? I mean—″

The man cut him off with a gesture of his hand. "Wait. He'll let us in. He will."

They sat with the engine purring idly for another minute, then two minutes, and then three. Matt didn't seem confident in the slightest about his deduction anymore, and had to keep himself from blurting out another unsure remark. Mello, on the other hand, sat expectantly, oddly assured without worry that this was undoubtedly the place they were looking for. Matt silently thought to himself that even if Mello was incredibly intelligent by the orphanage's standards, sometimes he would act too rashly too quickly. For all they knew, security might have already been called, or it was just the wrong building entirely. What if L wasn't even in Japan at all?

The barred gate to the garage let out a low groan, retracting itself up and allowing their vehicle entrance to the dim underground space. Mello's smile turned to one too wide to be considered one of happiness alone as he triumphantly pulled into the building. Matt sat openmouthed, gawking at his friend. "I stand corrected," he managed, leaning back into the plush leather he sat on, shutting his laptop and lifting his goggles from his eyes. "No fucking way."

"Yes fucking way," the blond joked with a dry laugh. _Don't think too hard about it. It's just a routine kidnapping, a routine mission. Get in, get out, and it'll be over before you know it. _

Mello pulled the car to a stop near the elevator, checking to make sure his gun was loaded and a few extra weapons, just in case. Matt slipped his goggles back on and slipped something into his pocket before Mello could catch exactly what it was. "Are you sure we're gonna need all this stuff?" the redhead inquired, hand resting on the door handle. "I mean…what is this really is the wrong place? Like, there's always the chance that we might've done something wrong."

"Matt, stop worrying," Mello groaned with a roll of his eyes. "Let's go. It's already what, eleven thirty? I was kind of hoping to get some sleep tonight, you know."

Matt grumbled under his breath nervously and followed his partner's lead out of the car into the dank room and over to the elevator. Mello stared straight ahead as he pressed the button to head up to where their target was hoped to be. _Don't think about it. It's your head or his, and you've got to come out on top. Just get it over with. You don't have to hurt him; you just have to bring him to the boss. You've _killed _people, for fuck's sake—this is nothing._

It was this almost surreal sense of detachment that had kept Mello sane throughout his time spent working under Rod. Targets could not be considered people—they were only missions to be carried out. If you took the time to consider that these men and women had lives and souls of their own, you would either go mad or fail and be killed. Of course, this case was very different, the blond thought bitterly. With most cases he was assigned to carry out, he had never seen or heard of the target before, and therefore lacked any emotional attachment towards them nor did he feel any guilt.

The elevator beeped as Matt pressed the button for the highest floor, adding something aloud about how it would be easier for them to work their way down. Mello nonchalantly nodded and anxiously fiddled with the gun in his hand. Any confidence or motivation he may have had earlier had dissipated into nothing. He knew he wasn't supposed to think too far into exactly what he was doing here in the name of Japan's most notorious criminals, and yet his mind could not force itself to stray from the deeper aspects of the importance of how dangerous and shameful what he was doing truly was. The mafioso silently attempted to reassure the weaker part of his conscience that there was nothing to stress over; perhaps Matt was right after all and this wasn't the correct building, and that the gate had only opened by accident of whoever was in charge of security. Then they could just leave for the night and try again the next day. They could return back to Rod's headquarters and tell him they'd had no luck. After all, they had an entire week to carry out the mission, so there was no real point in rushing to finish everything in one night.

"Hey," Matt murmured, nudging the blond with his elbow. "Snap out of it, Mel. I'm in this with you, so don't pussy out on me now." He paused and after a moment's hesitation, added, "By the way…I know."

Mello shot the redhead a fierce warning glance but made no effort to reprimand him as the elevator let out a sharp _ding_ signaling their arrival at the top floor. The pair immediately turned their focus to the metallic doors sliding open and revealing a dark hallway before them. Matt walked ahead, scouring the grounds and being careful to make as little noise as possible, whereas Mello didn't seem to pay much attention to the squeaking of leather brought on by each step he took. A thought in the back of his mind scolded him in a whisper—he had no idea what L was really like, how could he be so reckless strolling through this building like it was his backyard? For all he knew, L could have armed security waiting for him and Matt to walk right into their grasp. Wasn't it ironic that the second ranked in intelligence at Wammy's House was so incredibly foolish?

The young man snarled. Now was _not_ the time for internal reflection, Mello impatiently thought to himself, tightening his grip on his weapon and shuffling down a flight of stairs with an approving nod from Matt. The top floor had proven to be empty and filled with nothing but boxes of office supplies, and from the looks of it, this one was too. The blond felt frustration rising—they'd have to have been let in by someone; why was it that the building was essentially devoid of life?

He made his way down another flight of stairs, and another, and another, all the while being closely followed by Matt. Doubt mixed with exasperation began to take hold of the man as they continued to proceed through a seemingly empty structure. There had to be _someone_ occupying the building. If they hadn't been given specific and clear access by someone, wouldn't a building as large as this one have some sort of alarm system?

Mello didn't take notice that Matt had strayed off to search another room on the floor and continued on his way, now carelessly walking through the floors and down the stairs rhythmically, only stopping if he caught a glimpse of light in his view. Another three flights of stairs later and Mello could feel his temper bubbling. What a waste of time, and how laughable it was to have gotten his hopes up so quickly. With his luck, he'd more than likely have to fly out back to Winchester and get information from whoever was currently in charge of running Wammy's.

The blond had only just processed this thought and barely begun turning on his heel to complain about this fact to Matt when he felt his arm be violently twisted behind his back, the gun yanked from his hand, and a foot roughly forcing him to the ground. A gasp was forced out of his lungs and he began to struggle against his attacker. "Get the fuck off of me," he swore, twisting and turning desperately and cursing himself for having lost his focus and having failed to notice that there had been someone else such a short distance from him. "_Matt_—!"

"Quiet, Mihael," a low voice interrupted, inches away from his ear. The blond froze in horror, his blood running cold at the sound of the name. There were only two people who could have possessed knowledge of it, and one of them was undoubtedly the one holding him to the ground at gunpoint at that very moment. "There's no need to struggle. I'm very certain I know the reason you're here, anyway. If you'd wanted to see me, you could have just said so at the entrance."

Mello, still in shock, went limp under the hold of the man above him. "It's you, isn't it? L?"

The man ignored his question and shifted his foot to the arch of Mello's back, using his free hand to pull him back by the throat, careful not to allow the blond to have visual of his face just yet. "Did you really think I'd let just anyone in here, particularly someone with the intent of bringing me physical harm?" The man's voice was gravelly and sent chills up Mello's spine. He could hardly breathe even without a hand squeezing his windpipe, but with the addition of the cool hand pressing at his throat he was quickly growing dizzy, any desperation of escape gone along with his breath. "I think I know a bit more than you'd like to believe, Mihael—or, as you go by in the mafia, _Mello. _

"I couldn't care less about what the underground of Japan is doing," he continued, his volume almost nonexistent and breath hot in Mello's ear. "After you and Mail disappeared from Wammy's…well, I couldn't just have two of the top three vanish off of the map without a trace, now could I?" He laughed dryly and tightened his hold on Mello, earning a literal breathless wheeze of sorts from his current captive. "No. I know that you know that I'm not an idiot. But I'm a curious man and I wanted to know what you were up to, having disappeared overnight and leaving a certain Nate River without any real competition. Was it that you lost interest in the title, or was it something else?"

A faint Mello began to squirm against his bearings weakly, hearing the approaching footsteps of which he assumed belonged to Matt. The man removed his hand from the young man's throat and stood up beside the gasping blond lying on the ground. To Mello's astonishment, he saw his gun be placed gently on the floor next to him. Coughing, he pulled himself to a sitting position and finally looked up to see the face of God.

"I'm sorry," he hoarsely managed, gaze locked onto L's for the first time in his life. He felt like a child once again, something he had not been since before he had been brought to Wammy's House. He drank in the sight of the man standing above him, thrown together outfit and messy hair to match the tired eyes and stubble on his chin. "I was afraid they would kill me."

"I know." L extended a hand to help Mello up from the ground. "It's okay. You're not going to have to deal with them from now on. Besides…" he smiled softly and chuckled. "There's a _real_ case I want to work on, and I think you and Mail would be more than welcome to join me."

_God, he's beautiful._


End file.
